There's No Place Like Home
by Paceso
Summary: Arabella Figg muses on the ostracism of being a Squib, and how she found (and made) a sense of belonging. . An entry for the International Wizarding School Championship round 8 grammar school challenge.


IWSC competition

Round 8 grammar school (semicolons)

Beauxbatons 3rd year

WC 782

* * *

**There's No Place Like Home**

Arabella Figg hummed as she spooned tinned fish into Mr Tibbles' bowl. Today was one of the days she looked forward to the most; on days like this she felt almost as if she belonged in the wizarding world.

It was difficult being a Squib. It started so young, with the surprised looks when you were a toddler and you didn't do any magical naughtiness. You didn't understand the looks, but you knew that somehow you hadn't done what you were supposed to. Then at school, your friends did unintentional magic when they were cross or frightened, but you never did; the consciousness of being wrong just kept growing. And finally there was the hopelessness of waiting for a letter that never came. Your magical friends all went gaily off to Hogwarts, and you were left behind.

How well Arabella remembered that dreadful day. She had set off dolefully for the local comprehensive school, knowing that her friends were all assembling on platform nine and three-quarters. There wasn't – there couldn't be – anything lonelier than that.

It was actually easier once she'd grown up. She took a job in a Muggle cat rescue organisation; she'd always loved cats, and she felt a special fondness for these abandoned moggies. In a way, she was rather like them, really; circumstances had thrust her out of her home, and she felt lost and alone. She showered them with affection, and they always purred with delight when she walked by their cages.

Sometimes there was a cat that no-one wanted to adopt; they were the ones that Arabella yearned over most of all. One by one, she took them home rather than see them put to sleep. Snowy was the first, and Arabella had never been able to understand why people didn't want such a beautiful white cat. True, her long fur needed constant brushing; no doubt that would deter some people. But she was such a darling!

Then there was Tufty. Such a funny-looking thing, with his huge tufty ears. Arabella always thought he looked as if someone had swapped a lion's ears for his, and she giggled at the thought of a lion with ordinary cat's ears. Visitors to the shelter rarely looked past first appearances, and poor Tufty had been on death row before she took him home.

Next had been Mr Paws. Like Tufty, his name had come from over-large body parts, but also because he was so conscious of his four big white feet. He washed them constantly, gently patted the shelter workers with them, and planted them firmly on other cats when they got in his way. He was so gentle, though; Arabella had never seen him use his claws at all.

Mr Tibbles was different. He hadn't come from the cat shelter; Dumbledore had brought him. Arabella remembered that day too. Who could ever forget? Even the Muggles had known something very strange was going on. There were owls flying in every direction bearing the news of You-Know-Who's disappearance, magical folk out in the streets celebrating and ignoring the Statute of Secrecy, and then Dumbledore had turned up on her doorstep.

She flushed with pride as she remembered his words. "Arabella, the magical world needs you."

Me? she thought. The magical world needs a Squib?

The decades of feeling useless and discarded had vanished almost in an instant as Dumbledore had explained that he was leaving Harry Potter with his aunt and uncle nearby, and needed someone reliable to keep an eye on the family.

Arabella sniffed. She knew the Dursleys! House-proud, garden-proud snobs, who'd come round to complain when Mr Paws had walked across their lawn with his out-sized feet and flattened the grass. She'd been tempted to tell them that he'd also decided their vegetable patch made a fine litter tray, but discretion had prevailed.

Yes, she'd be glad to keep an eye on Harry; he'd need it, if she knew anything about it!

And so Dumbledore had left Mr Tibbles with her. Part-Kneazle, Mr Tibbles could watch Harry unsuspected and alert her if she needed to act. He could also contact Dumbledore if necessary, which Arabella, being unable to Apparate or send Patronus messages, couldn't easily do. And it was just as well she hadn't told the Dursleys about Mr Paws in their vegetable patch, because they'd eventually decided that she was useful as a minder when they needed to dump Harry on someone.

At that moment, Arabella was brought back to the present by a ring at the doorbell. She went to the door and opened it.

"Harry!" she said, with a beam of welcome. "Come in, come in. I've been looking forward to seeing you."


End file.
